Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
He fumbled with the handle before he got it open just as Presley rushed to his side, hanging on to his door as she caught her breath. “Edison wait, please. Oh my god. I’m so, so sorry that happened. That was—”
“Fucked up!” Edison barked, glaring at his boss.
Her eyes widened but she didn’t say anything about his language. “Yes, it was. Where are you going?”
“I have to go after him… I have to tell him it doesn’t matter. I can’t believe…” Edison rubbed his forehead. How had he not put those pieces together? Now that he’d taken a second to think about it, it all made sense and he knew it was true.
“Edison, what can I do?” Presley asked, appearing sincerely apologetic.
Edison looked up with sadness until he saw Skylar strolling towards him. “Fire him,” he said before he realized it.
Presley glanced over her shoulder then turned back to Edison. “Done.”
Edison blinked. Was it really that easy? If he’d known that he would’ve had Skylar fired ages ago.
“I’m not firing him because he hurt your boyfriend’s feelings, Edison. I’m firing him because he used my community outreach event to air a personal vendetta. He embarrassed me and my company. If it wasn’t for Mila’s quick thinking it would’ve ruined the rest of the day.
Skylar was almost to them and there were a few nosy stragglers from his office still watching him. “I have to get out of here.”
“Take the week off, Edison,” Presley said.
Edison gapped up at her from his driver’s seat. “What? No.”
“It wasn’t a request. Take the week and let me clear all this mess up for you, okay,” she said, leaning in and pecking him on his cheek. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“Thanks, Presley,” he said. Edison felt his chest loosen a fraction as he peeled out of the parking lot and got onto the Boulevard.
Edison drove as fast as he dared—five miles over the limit—and turned into his court. His heart rate was high, and his hands were damp on the steering wheel as he swerved into his driveway. He raced up the porch steps, unlocked the door and barreled his way inside.
“Bishop! Bishop, honey are you in here?” Edison yelled, racing to the patio doors and flinging them open. When he didn’t see anyone, he hurried to his bedroom, “Bishop!”
Bishop wasn’t in there either. Edison’s heart sank. Had he run from him again? Bishop’s duffle bag was still open on the side of his bed and Edison went to it, remembering their conversation while they’d gotten dressed together. He’d mentioned making some shelf space for Bishop’s stuff, so he didn’t have to feel as if he was living out of suitcase. Edison took a deep breath, he didn’t just want to make some room in his dresser. He wanted to make more room in his entire house. He wanted Bishop to move in.
He picked up the bag and went to set it on the floor when a wide brown envelope sticking out of the side pocket, caught his eye. Edison frowned when he saw Adult Learning Center in bold letters along the top. He didn’t know how long he stood there staring at the envelope but the moment he reached for it he heard the front door slam. He jumped up and ran out of his bedroom and down the hall.
“Bishop, I’ve been so worr—” Edison skidded to a stop, almost stumbling into the back of the couch.
“You got me fired. Did you know that?”
“Skylar, what the hell are you doing in my house?” Edison scowled.
“Your door was open.” Skylar said, standing close to his dining room. He clasped his hands behind his back and glanced around as if he was at an art exhibit. “So, this is your home.” Skylar shrugged and made a ‘meh’ expression, “It’s not bad. Could use a hint of my style though.”
Edison squinted at Skylar, noting that something was off. He was acting strange and eerily calm, even though he’d led with the fact that he was now out of a job. And if Presley had anything to do with it, completely out of the law field in Hampton Roads. It was going to be almost impossible for him to find work after word got out that he wasn’t afraid to humiliate the company he worked for.
Edison stayed at a decent distance as Skylar moved into his kitchen, running his long fingers along the surface of his marble-top island. “If you knew what happened on that surface this morning, you wouldn’t be touching it,” Edison said spitefully.
Skylar jerked his hand away as if he’d been burned then shot daggers at Edison with those envious green eyes. He didn’t care if it pissed Skylar off, Edison wanted him to pay for what he’d done to Bishop. No one should be made to feel like that, ever. Edison had suffered bullying all of his life, he knew what Bishop must be feeling. Defeated. Mortified. Ashamed. Edison couldn’t imagine battling through life not being able to read. However that happened, it couldn’t have been Bishop’s choice or his fault. And with all those challenges, Bishop had still turned out to be a talented, remarkable, accomplished businessman.